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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The lake water was freezing, but Ben welcomed the cold because the morning swim helped cool his ardor after thinking about Kimani all night and first thing when he woke. Why the hell did he want her so badly? It was like he was back to being a horny teenager. He wanted her back on his lap, her body squirming atop his, his fingers buried in her hot, wet cunt. And they had just begun. There was so much more he could do, and he wanted to do it all.
He swam butterfly for 400 meters, then freestyle back to the shore. The final sprint had him nice and winded. With his heart pumping hard and the sun warming the water on his skin, he felt invigorated. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went up the stairs to the cabin.
While he was swimming, everyone else had risen. The guys were sitting around the dining table with bloody marys, Claire and Lisa were kneeling by the fireplace, and Kimani and Ryan were making breakfast in the kitchen.
Kimani was wearing her cocktail dress beneath his shirt. He smiled to himself to think the sweatpants might still be damp. She hadn’t worn any panties beneath the sweatpants yesterday. Was she going commando right now? He imagined sliding his hand beneath her dress to find out.
“We’re going out on the boat this morning for some skiing,” Derek said to him. “You in?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, wow,” Ryan murmured after nearly bumping into Ben while carrying a plate of toast. Her gaze went up and down his bare chest.
Kimani, standing in front of the stove with a pan of scrambled eggs, looked over. Her gaze locked with his.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she replied, glancing over his body briefly before turning her attention back to the eggs.
“Good morning, Master,” Jake told her before turning to Ben. “You got to do a better job teaching your slut proper sub behavior.”
Ben took a celery stick to stay himself from saying something that would tick Jake off before the meeting with Tyrell had been set. “You worry about yours.”
“You can’t let them get away with the small shit, you know. Otherwise, they can get out of line and start topping from the bottom.”
“Does that worry you?”
“Hell no. I just don’t like it. Won’t tolerate it. I was just giving you some friendly advice.”
“I’ve been a practitioner for over ten years—”
Kimani nearly dropped the pan as she bobbled pouring the eggs onto a plate.
“—I know what I’m doing.”
“Go put a shirt on,” Jason said, throwing a kitchen towel at him, “and stop showing off.”
Glad to get away from Jake, Ben went upstairs to change. While in his room, he received a call from Stephens, who took care of special one-off projects for Ben.
“Rosenstein wants to know if you want to go with D. Brown, the younger consultant who knows Oakland well and has worked for several councilmembers,” Stephens relayed, “or if you want Harris and Blume. Harris and Blume is a firm based in San Francisco but they have a lot of experience with independent expenditures.”
“Goddamn it,” Ben cursed. “You’re not supposed to talk to me about the I.E. It can’t coordinate with the candidate’s campaign, and since I’m family, I’m considered part of Uncle Gordon’s campaign.”
“It was your idea to set up the I.E.”
“But I can’t run it, influence it, or communicate with it. I was clear with Rosenstein about that.”
Rosenstein was a developer who the Lee family had worked with on a project not far from Oakland.
“Got it. I’ll reinforce the message,” Stephens acknowledged.
After finishing his call, Ben went downstairs to find that most of the guys had finished their breakfast. Jason was over by the fireplace with his hands down Lisa’s tank top, Derek was making another drink, and Jake had gone out to get the boat ready.
Kimani set down a plate of eggs and toast on the table. “If you don’t like your eggs scrambled, I can make them a different way.”
“Did you eat yet?” he asked.
